


Christmas Patch Baby - not all gifts come wrapped in paper

by nishiki



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Baby Connor - Freeform, Babysitter Shay, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Special, Christmas stuff, Gen, Modern AU, Uncle Shay, all around fluff, haytham is the grinch, unplanned fatherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:11:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8908570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: Some Christmas presents arrive rather unexpected, some aren't even wished for.Just a few days before Christmas, Haytham Kenway finds a surprise on his doorstep in form of a wailing, little nine-months old boy. Certain that he is not the father of said child, he is adamant to get the real parents to take responsibility.





	1. Chapter 1

**Day 1**

Haytham Kenway had never been too fond of Christmas or the holiday festivities in general. He had always hated all the traditions connected to it, from the tree, to the unnecessary buying of overpriced presents to show one’s loved ones how much they really meant to them - in the terms of money -, to the endless days of travelling back and forth to various family members and all the food that was consumed during these days. Of course, as he had been a child growing up in big old London, he, like every child, had enjoyed Christmas. He had enjoyed his family’s traditions and his father's deep voice when he had told him stories in front of the fireplace while his sister had only rolled her eyes in annoyance at his questions with which he had interrupted their father from time to time because, of course, she had already known the right answers. As a child, Christmas could not have come early enough and since he had had the luck to grow up wealthy, he had never needed to fear that his parents would not have been in the financial situation to buy him whatever he wanted.

At least this was true still and although a part of him sometimes missed his family in Britain, the serious and reasonable part of his brain took over most of the time. He was too busy leading his company to travel back home for just a few days filled with exhausting conversations with both his parents, discussing the reason why he was not married still, urging him to find a decent enough woman to have children with so that their legacy would be secured through his heirs. It was the very same every year, ever since he had turned twenty-one about ten years ago and he envied his half-sister Jennifer, wondering why their parents would not nag her like they did with him.

Sometimes, in these weeks leading up to Christmas, when he would walk the decorated snowy streets of Boston, he caught himself thinking about his home and felt the itch to call his father and hear his voice, but he knew that if he would do it there would be no way to escape a trip back home, so he would not do it. He would only buy presents for his family and friends and send them over and spend Christmas in his office working on more important matters.

Of course, he had friends who always invited him over for Christmas every year because they did not want him to be alone on this oh so holy day, but Haytham rarely accepted an invitation. If he did so at all, then he would accept an invitation to his best friend’s house to have a nice, quiet evening without the burden of behaving socially acceptable and polite even if he did not want to be polite.

His friends, for the most part, were just as pushy when it came to the topic of getting married and having a family as his parents, with the exception of his closest friends Charles Lee and Shay Cormac. Even Thomas, the notorious drunkard of their little band of friends, dreamed of a family of his own and sometimes, yes, Haytham wondered how it would be to have children and if he had made a mistake when he had left his girlfriend almost two years ago.

Ziio, a beautiful young native American woman who had stolen his heart three years ago when she had dumped coffee on his suit pants - with intent, of course for his rude behavior. He had never been too romantic in his life and always looked at things more practical, but Ziio had turned his world upside down. He had truly loved her and yet it had not worked out and they both had known this from the start. He had last seen her in August of 2015, which was around fourteen months ago and he had not heard from her ever since. It was better this way for sure and yet he sometimes felt a sting when he thought of what could have been if he would have just cared a little more if he would have made a little more effort at least. It had been more than just a stupid little affair and although he had known this, he had never done anything to go the next step.

It was four days from now until Christmas Eve and the people in Boston were running errands like maniacs, collecting presents and groceries for the big day already as if they would starve otherwise. December always was hell on earth in the city and that was only one reason more why Haytham preferred living on the outskirts of town. His neighborhood was quiet and nice and he could almost ignore the ridiculous decorations on the houses in his street. He could ignore the ugly Santa Clauses and reindeer on the front gardens of his neighbors as long as they were contained behind white picket fences for good. He did not mind those crazy Americans decorating their houses accordingly to the holiday that was around the corner. And he did not mind the Christmas carolers ringing his doorbell. He was not home to open the door anyway most of the time. He rarely came home before midnight most days and left the house in the early morning hours. Shay, his best friend, always liked to joke that he pretty much lived in his office and sadly, that was true. Haytham did not even mind that his next door neighbor would ask him every year if they should go and buy a Christmas tree together and his neighbor did not seem to mind that the stiff Brit would decline his offer every year, not willing to put a tree in his living room. He did not mind nature – as long as nature stayed outside of his house.

As he opened his front door on this particular Monday morning on his way to work, he would have almost stumbled and fell over something that had been sat down in front of his door, if it had not been for him looking down on himself quickly to make sure his attire was in order. He almost jumped back in surprise as he took in the object in front of him and he needed a whole lot longer to understand what he was seeing. First, he was sure that this was just a very terrible, very Christmassy joke, but then the reality sunk in slowly.

It was an infant carrier.

The realization hit him almost a little too hard for comfort, but as it did, he was also able to take in more and realized that a pair of big brown eyes were directed at him, peeking out from under a warm light blue blanket and underneath a little hat with bear shaped ears attached to it.

»Oh, that is just too good to be true!« Shay laughed hours later as he waved the letter in Haytham's direction just as if he had not read that cursed piece of paper himself already more than enough times to be able to recite every word by heart. » _My name is Ratonhnhaké:ton Connor Kenway and I am your son. Take care of me, you douche._ «

»I do not find this particularly funny, Shay.« Haytham found himself groaning as he hung up the phone once again. He had tried to call Ziio already a dozen of times since he had first found the baby in front of his door but she apparently refused to pick up her phone and so did her asshole of a brother. With an exasperated sigh, he finally gave up and threw his phone on his dark gray sofa where it landed perfectly fine but mildly offended on its screen. Usually, Haytham was one of the calmest people one could ever meet, but now, today, he could not help but ruffling his hair at the sight of all of this incredible mess.

The day should have been like any other day before, but now there was a child in his house, in his perfectly polished, clean, nice little house, still lying in his carrier but squealing with joy at the grimaces Shay pulled for the little boy. Connor. That was, apparently, his name. Well, at least that was the only name Haytham could pronounce while Shay seemed to have no problem whatsoever to say the child's first name. Then again, Shay, his dark-haired companion, was a man of many talents.

Of course, Haytham could not have known for certain that Ziio, his ex-girlfriend, would be the mother of this boy, but only Ziio would choose a name that Haytham could impossibly pronounce to taunt him – plus, Ziio was the only native American woman he had ever slept with and the first name of this kid was clearly Mohawk even to a untaught person as Haytham was. However, even though he had established that Ziio had to be the boy’s mother, even before he had found the birth certificate in the infant carrier that clearly stated the obvious, he would have never thought that Ziio would be that kind of woman who would just cast out her own child like this. No, the Ziio he had known and loved would most certainly have never done something like this, except if something had forced her to - and maybe that was the real reason why he tried to reach her frantically.

»Well, let’s ask your dad, I think he would say it's funny too.« Shay laughed as he finally found the mercy to free the little boy from his carrier, while Connor already tried to grab for the few strands of dark hair that had escaped Shays ponytail and framed his face. Unlike him, Shay had always been good with kids as he proofed now that he took off the little hat of the boy and revealed a thick tuft of almost black hair in the process. »I mean, this really is something one would have expected to happen to your father - but certainly not to you.«

»Not a word to my father, Shay.« Haytham was serious not only with his tone but the look he shot his friend, as he sat down in his armchair, as far away from the child as possible.

»Oh come on, Hayth, he is a grandfather now! He would come to Boston immediately.« Shay laughed and although he usually enjoyed Shay’s company, the sound of his laughter and his general bubbly personality, now he wanted to punch him.

»That is exactly my point.« Haytham growled. »We don't even know if this really is my child just because _someone_ has set it up in front of my door and wrote it in some random letter. This doesn't mean anything and we both know this.«

This time it was Shay who looked at him a little more serious out of his dark brown eyes as he raised his left brow and let the boy gently pull at his hair. »You are aware that your name is written on this birth certificate, yes?« Even as the Irishman pointed towards the piece of paper, Haytham did his best to ignore it. »Really, Haytham, you are so paranoid. Who would counterfeit a birth certificate just to make you believe that this is your and Ziio’s child?«

»Oh, don't be naive Shay.« Haytham sighed as he once again drove his finger through his by now quite unruly dark hair. Shay was right, though, this was something he had always thought would happen to his father. He himself had always been careful, not because he would care for any bastard children or the possibility of needing to pay child support, but because of the scandal a child out of wedlock could mean for his family and the company. »There are more than enough desperate women out there who would do anything to find a wealthy guy to rip off. No, I’m not buying it, even with Ziio’s involvement.«

For a moment Shay was silent but sighed softly as he wrapped the little guy a little more safely in his arms. Connor seemed to enjoy the presence of Haytham’s best friend, but he could feel his dark eyes resting upon his own face nonetheless. »And what do you want to do then with this kid?«

»What am I supposed to do?« It came out as a breath, almost. Yes, the answer to that really was simple, much more simple even than he would have thought. »I will take him to the authorities of course. Let them find out if this birth certificate is truthful and who his mother really is and then put her behind bars for abusing her child like this.«


	2. Chapter 2

**Day 2**

Connor was a sweet child. He rarely cried or screamed and even allowed Haytham to sleep through the night. Against his declaration to Shay, Haytham had not immediately taken him to the authorities or the police. Instead, he had wanted to give the mother of this boy, whoever it really was, a chance to see her mistake and come take her child again. Maybe a part of him even hoped to see Ziio again, if she really was the child’s mother. Haytham had seen many things in his life and the wretchedness of some individuals could not surprise him any longer. Why shouldn’t some desperate woman who maybe knew Ziio and had known about her relationship with Haytham try to somehow gain profit out of the situation or at least get rid of an unwanted child like this?

Unwanted, yes. That seemed to be the case, didn’t it?

For once, Haytham was not able to really tell what he should or shouldn’t believe in this scenario, but what mother would cast out a child she loved or had wanted in the first place?

After Shay had left them in the late afternoon, he had had more than enough time to think about all of this fiasco. People made mistakes, especially desperate people. The boy looked healthy and happy, so his mother had probably taken very good care of him until now. Whatever had driven her to this decision, Haytham could not tell and he did not know if he really wished to understand a mindset such as this. He maybe was not the most fatherly figure one could imagine and he clearly was not as good with children as any of his friends, but if he would have been in the place of this boy’s mother, he would have never given his baby boy up freely or without a fight. Maybe she was in dire need of financial help and Haytham, though clearly not a Mr. Robinson, was ready to help someone in need.

But as the second day went by, it became clearer and clearer to him, that _he_ was the one in dire need of help. Had the boy slept through the first night without doing as much as squeal or shift in his infant carrier, his mood shifted in the course of the next day for sure. And rightfully so. Haytham had no bed for the little guy and he clearly could not let him sleep in his bed, not just because of the danger of the child falling out, but also because he did not at all felt comfortable even thinking about having the child of a stranger in his bed, no matter how cute he might look.

He had never been too fond of children anyway.

Well, under the right circumstances, together with Ziio, maybe he would have been a good father even, but since he was not a father, he was apparently lacking talent in looking after this kid. If it wouldn't be for Shay, Haytham would be lost clearly already and the boy probably starved to death by now.

Shay had probably known that Haytham would not go through with bringing the baby to the police immediately, as was evident by the amount of baby food and diapers he had brought to Haytham’s place this morning. Had he first rejoiced in the quiet night with the baby, the reality of things had quite soon caught up with him after the baby boy started first crying for no apparent reason - at least to Haytham. Every mother in the world would probably know immediately what was wrong with the baby boy, Haytham, however, could not tell.

It had turned out that Shay was a natural when it came to kids. After he had arrived at Haytham's place he had changed the boy’s full diapers in no time to give a squealing happy baby to Haytham afterward who immediately laid the same baby back down in his infant carrier again, not caring for the real possibility that the boy might desire a little more physical contact. He did not even know how to hold a child and he was not willing to learn either. Shay had told him that he was confident that Haytham would know what he needed to do if he would just try. But Shay was an idiot most of the time. The boy was, according to the birth certificate, nine months old, so clearly still too fragile for a man like Haytham to handle.

»You are aware that he is not going to explode if you would hold him, are you?« Shay grinned while he prepared the food for the little floundering thing that was lying in the infant carrier, shaking his little fists and feet like a maniac while his eyes rested upon Haytham. He had again lost his pacifier, but he did not seem to really care that much. He cared more for his little plush bear. Maybe it was good that he had never become a dad and maybe it should stay like this too.

»I do not wish to indulge in this situation.« He was quick to clarify. »The baby will be gone in no time, so why taking the risk of him bonding with me?«

Shay had not even the decency to suppress a little laughter. »Isn't it the other way around? Are you afraid that you could bond with him?«

»Why should I?«

»He is your son, after all.«

»As long as I do not get to see a proof of that, he is not. And if his mother won't take him by tomorrow, he is going to be handed over to the police.« He glared at Shay one last time to make his standpoint clear, but his friend only pulled a small little grimace at his words and went to feed the baby.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day 3**

It was 03:00 AM as Haytham finally got up from his bed. There was not even the chance of sleeping anymore. He knew that there wasn't. He knew that he would not even sleep five minutes as long as Connor would continue crying even though the boy was not in his room like he had been during the last night.

As he slowly walked out of his bedroom, the wailing became louder and more pitiful the closer he came to his guest bedroom, where he had stored the little bundle of joy before he had gone to bed just hours ago. He had felt awkward enough as Connor had slept in his room the first night and since he believed that a child could not possibly starve to death within just a few hours in the night, he had refused to take him in again. His only hope now was that the boy had a problem that was easily solvable. Hunger, preferably.

As he walked into the guest bedroom, Connor was squirming in his infant carrier like a little maniac, thrashing his chubby arms and legs everywhere in a pity attempt of imitating a Kung Fu fighter or of simply freeing himself from his bonds. Only when Haytham came closer he stopped for a moment as his eyes fell upon his face with the same sense of awe that the little gremlin always portrayed at the sight of Haytham E. Kenway. The wailing, sadly, did not stop, though.

»Now, what do you want?« Haytham sighed as he picked the boy up slowly and immediately, Connor stopped crying, but his discomfort only grew. »Hungry?« There was no response, of course, only large brown eyes resting on his face in awe and tiny hands that tried to grab his chin. Haytham masterfully escaped Connor's little fingers as he carried him downstairs to the kitchen. Shay had left everything he had bought in the kitchen and though he had shown him how to prepare a bottle to feed the little man, Haytham had not at all listened. Then again, how tricky could it be anyway?

Connor would not stop crying even after Haytham had prepared the bottle of baby formula for him and nudged it against his tiny crying mouth. For once, Haytham was not sure if he did not want to drink because he was not hungry or if something else was wrong and since the baby boy was not willing to talk to him and say what he wanted, he could only guess. But even after ten attempts of feeding the boy, Connor would not eat.

»Oh my god, what the hell is it?« Haytham found himself groaning as he leaned against his kitchen counter and finally put aside the bottle, almost throwing the bloody thing into his sink. That did seem to soothe the boy a little, but he still did not stop crying. »Don't tell me your diapers are full, I swear to god, Connor if you make me change them I will call Shay immediately.«

He had never changed a diaper before. Why would he? There were no children in his family just yet and his sister would probably never have any anyway. But at least the internet usually had a solution to problems like these. So, as Connor did not want to eat, Haytham walked into the living room where he could lay the boy on the rug that lay in the center of the room to make it more homey and comfortable, on a simple dishtowel. It was a little damp from drying the dishes after dinner still, but this would hardly kill the baby - or so he assumed as he made haste to change the diapers while his phone was lying beside Connor on the rug, showing him a YouTube Video of a young woman explaining how to do so.

It turned out that Connor's diapers were perfectly clean but he stopped crying anyway and started to squirm instead in a fit of giggles as though mocking the poor man whom he had fooled so badly. »You cannot be serious.« But the boy seemed very serious as he lay there, playing the innocent with his giant brown eyes and the little freckles dusting his cheeks. For a baby, he was certainly cute and maybe he even reminded him just a little on Ziio. »You just wanted to prank me, did you?« With a sigh, he put the diaper back on out of protest and made sure his clothes would sit right again before he picked him up and just slumped down on the sofa to turn on his TV. He was not comfortable with holding a baby in his arm like this, as Shay certainly was, but as long as it meant that Connor would stay quiet, he was willing to comply. By now it was 04:00 AM, sleep was most certainly not going to happen this night, but as he made himself comfortable with Connor in his arms, the boy at least did not cry anymore, looking content in his arms as he looked at him with his owlish brown eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day 4**

The latest addition to his home had not gone unnoticed by his nosy neighbors, as Haytham had learned as the day progressed. »No, really, thank you, James. I don’t want a Christmas tree, I won’t be home Christmas anyway.« He tried not to sigh, he tried not to roll his eyes, he tried to sound as polite and friendly and reasonable as he possibly could, but James, Mr. Mackenzie, his next door neighbor looked at him a little more puzzled than the years before when Haytham had declined his offer to go and buy a tree together. He was a very considered and polite man, at least that much Haytham could acknowledge. His neighborhood was a close knitted suburban community, as one would suspect in a place like this. He, however, seemed always to be the odd one out. The only one who would not attend the holy mass every Sunday, the only one who would not visit their neighborhood meetings, the only one who would not attend the Christmas bazaar at the community center.

»Oh Haytham, really you are working too much.« James sighed. He was around fifteen years older than Haytham, a father of three with his youngest daughter being only ten years old. There had been times since Haytham was living here when he had envied him and his family. The Mackenzie family seemed to be a loving bunch and the warmth they had for each other, they gave to their neighbors as well. They were the kind of family to which one would go to seek help. »And what about the baby?«

Of course, since James' wife knew about the baby, the entire neighborhood knew. »What about him?«

»Well, where will you take him Christmas if you won’t be home? Surely, you won't take him to work, right? Or are you two flying back home to your family?« As _normal_ families would, Haytham caught himself thinking more bitter than he liked to admit. His family, though his mother always nagged him to come home for the holidays, restricted themselves with short phone calls. He and his sister were fine with this, even his mother showed a certain sense of understanding for their busy lifestyles, only his father seemed to suffer under the state of his family. He had always been exerted to keep them close together, but his sister, Jenny, still bore a grudge against him for not being there most of her childhood.

But well, the baby. Yes, he knew how excited his father would be to hear about Connor. He would not care if the boy really was his grandchild. But Connor would not be here anymore on Christmas, Haytham thought, maybe even a little sadder than he would have assumed. This morning he had called the youth welfare office and told them about the situation. For the last three days, he had tried to reach Ziio or any of her family members, to no avail. He had worked from home since the boy had arrived at his doorstep out of thin air, but this could not keep going on like this for much longer, no matter that he was the head of this branch of their family company. It was unprofessional and how could he expect professionality from his workers when he himself did not display it? Other than this, his father started to grow concerned by his lack of presence at the office lately. His last call to Ziio's family had happened right after he had informed the authorities. He had left yet another message on Teiowí:sonte’s answering machine, that he had contacted the youth welfare office and that they would come to take Connor in a few days since they had not responded to Haytham's calls and threats of getting the authorities involved.

He had not felt good after this call at all. Shouldn’t he feel relieved, though?

»As I told you, he is not my son.« He tried to sound calm and not as aggressive as he might want to go about the situation. »He is the son of friends of mine and I only took care of him for a moment and his parents will take him home before Christmas.«

Again, James looked at him a little funny, maybe it was the display of coolness that Haytham portrayed, but it seemed he had gotten the hint and finally left Haytham alone again, after a cheerful goodbye and the offer that Haytham could come over still if he would change his mind. With a sigh, Haytham closed the door as James was out of earshot and walked back into his living room where he had left Connor lying on the carpet to play with his teddy and an old tennis ball Haytham had found somewhere in his closet.

»Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault that people find you cute – I don’t understand it either.« Of course, not only James had come to visit him, but also his wife Marjory, the gossip of this community, who had been at least nice enough to bring over something to eat -  a nice little lasagna for dinner, which smelled heavenly good – only to have a look at the baby boy that was now residing in Haytham's house. It had not taken long for her to tell her husband to bring over the old travel bed of their daughter who was already in elementary school by now – which begged the question of why someone would keep a baby bed for such a long time if it was not needed. Marjory had spent a good amount of time just cooing over Connor, picking him up as she found him and carrying him through the living room before she had given him back to Haytham with glittering eyes, apparently happy to see her young neighbor finally as a father. _It suits you_ , she had sighed at the sight and Haytham had done his best not to shove her out of his house as Connor had clung to him like a little koala bear, seemingly relieved that this strange woman had not held him any longer.

Now that they were alone again, it felt eerily silent in his own four walls, but maybe this only was the case because of the baby boy looking at him with judging eyes.

»So what now?« He found himself sighing. Of course, he had hoped that Teiowí:sonte or preferably Ziio would contact him by now after he had left the message about the youth welfare office, but it seemed that they still refused to answer him. Only the reason why eluded his understanding. If they would not know who Connor was or what he was talking about, a message would suffice, wouldn’t it? He only needed a short answer, a _no he is not Ziio's son,_ would suffice.

Maybe he should just drive by and bring the boy back home instead? He did not want to give Connor to the authorities. He knew how corrupt the system was and if he could avoid it, he would. But just keeping the boy was not an option either. It was not just that it was not his child or that he did not know how to raise a child, he was working too much. He would not have time for a baby. Maybe that was the real reason why Ziio and he had broken up. He had always known about Ziio's desire to have children at some point in her life, but they had never really discussed the topic in earnest.

It was not James Mackenzie who later brought him a Christmas tree against his will, it was Shay. As his best friend later arrived at his house to see if Haytham had already let the baby boy starve to death, he brought a tree just large enough to still fit in his living room and even though Haytham protested quite seriously, he could not stop his friend from setting the tree up with a cheerful hum on his lips. He could have thrown him out of course, but he had his hands full with the baby boy who desperately wanted to see what was happening and whom he could hardly stop from crawling towards Shay and the possible danger of the tree falling onto him to crush the little body.

»Look, Connor likes it.« Shay grinned after he had completed his work and looked at the tree with a proud grin on his face and his hands on his hips as if he had just slain a beast.

»He is an infant, he likes everything.« Haytham replied with a frown on his face. The tree was crooked, but Shay did not seem to see it – or he did not mind.

»Oh come on, he is no infant. He is nine months old and this is his first Christmas!« Shay laughed, but his face looked a little judging all the same. Surely, Shay already made plans to come over for Christmas.

»So what?« He sighed but picked up Connor once more as he saw how the little thing again tried to crawl and wiggle towards the tree as if he was being pulled by a magnet. »I don’t have decorations anyway.«

Connor was a little heavy on his arms by now, mostly because he tried to get off and get closer to this fascinating new thing in the living room. He was curious, to say the least, and Haytham was a little glad that Mrs. Mackenzie had brought him the old travel bed of her son. At least that way he could contain the little gremlin. The bed was more like a jail cell, or at least the way Connor would cry when sat down on the bed made him believe that it was. It was better this way, though. Connor was quick for such a tiny thing and apparently he only had mischief on his mind.

Now, however, he was trying to grab for the tree, desperate as he was sucking on his pacifier in earnest. That was how Haytham knew when the kid was excited, or at least he believed so.

»Ask your neighbors, I'm sure they will gladly help you.« Shay laughed and as he stepped closer to Haytham he just took Connor from him to bring him closer to the tree without hesitation. It was a little weird, really, but his arms felt a bit empty all of the sudden. Connor's large brown eyes were glistening at the sight of the tree and a fit of giggles erupted from him after he had dropped his pacifier (which was, luckily, attached to a little chain that was fastened on his clothes) and touched the tree for the first time. Weird how such a little thing could make someone as happy as it did Connor.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would go and pay Ziio a little visit. This could not keep on going like it did now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Day 5**

Connor was like a bag of kittens. He was only nine months old and yet he was quite easy to lose, apparently. The bed Mrs. Mackenzie had brought him over yesterday did not prove to be a reliable jail cell for the little gremlin at all. He had left Connor in the living room in his bed as he had retreated to his office upstairs and fell asleep later that night on his couch over some report he had to read. Either he was getting old, or it was the lack of sleep he had suffered the night prior. He blamed Connor that he still had no answer for his sister the next morning since he had hardly understood what he had read in this report at all. Needless to say that Jenny was not at all joyous as they had talked on the phone.

Connor had stayed silent the entire night, which in itself should have told Haytham that something was wrong. Maybe he was naïve! But Connor had been knocked out cold as he had laid him down around midnight before moving into his office to get some work done. The boy had hardly noticed anything at all as he had finally fallen asleep. Well, maybe midnight had been a little late for the baby…

However, as Haytham had walked downstairs and into his living room, Connor had not been in his bed anymore and Haytham had almost suffered a heart attack as he had then found the boy sitting on the kitchen tiles in front of a wide open cupboard with some undefined bottle in his hand.

»Don’t tell anyone that you almost drank bleach, alright?« Haytham later turned to the boy as they were driving down the road. He had put the boy back into his infant carrier and fastened the belts that should hold him in place before he had then settled the carrier into the backseat of his black Mercedes. The car was not designed to drive around little children. Connor did not seem all too glad as he was held captive like this again. He seemed to be someone who wanted his freedom – surely he would become quite a rebellious teenager growing up. Haytham even wondered, as he took another look in the rearview mirror to see how Connor was pedaling with his chubby little legs, what kind of rebellious teen he would become. Would he dye his hair blue and wear piercings? Would he come home one day and hide a tattoo under his clothes so that he would not see it? _Wait_ , he urged himself. Why should he bother his mind with thoughts like this? No matter what kind of teenager he would become, he would not come home to Haytham hiding a tattoo. Haytham was bringing him back to his real family, hopefully, and if not, he would surely find a new loving family through the social services. There were more than enough nice people out there who desperately wanted a child, after all.

Connor was mostly silent on their drive through the winter wonderland that was the outskirts of Boston so shortly before Christmas. Only a few times, a little wailing sound escaped him, but as Haytham switched on the radio of his car, Connor stopped the little sounds he was making completely. Instead, he was seemingly listening to the music that was playing softly in the car. Apparently, the boy liked those stupid Christmas themed songs greatly. But as _Last Christmas_ was played for the third time, Connor had fallen asleep on the backseat. He had lost his pacifier once again and lay there with his mouth wide open. Haytham almost felt tempted to throw something at him. If the boy would be older, he would try it.

Ziio's family lived near Lexington and due to the heavy traffic, it took a while to reach the suburbs. It was the 23rd of December, after all, and most people were by now on their way to their families to spend a few days with their loved ones. Sometimes he was glad that he was mostly working on the holidays. It was quiet at the office then and he could distract himself with all the work he had to do and finally get something done.

Lexington was beautiful during this time of the year. Most houses were still out of the colonial era and looked like straight out of a fairytale with their snow covered roofs and prettily decorated front gardens. Haytham saw children running around on the streets, engulfed in a little snowball fight or building a snowman at the side of the road as he drove by. He left Lexington and drove down the wide road until he came to another little settlement of houses. Strictly speaking, those houses still belonged to Lexington, but Teiowí:sonte had always seen this a little more close minded. He was one of those people who still held a grudge against the _evil white men_ and wanted nothing to do with people like Haytham. Of course, he had always disliked him and his sister's decision of going out with him. Fortunately, not all members of their family were like him.

The settlement still looked like he remembered it. Only six houses along a narrow street that branched off from the main road and even those houses were nicely decorated. Despite the traditions that especially Teiowí:sonte held high, despite his grudge for the western (white) habits and tradition during this time of the year, even his house was decorated for Christmas. Teiowí:sonte had always been one of the most hypocritical persons that Haytham had ever had the misfortune of knowing. As long as _he_ would get something out of it, he would even sell his own mother. And Haytham wondered if this child was Ziio's, maybe Teiowí:sonte had brought him to Haytham in hopes of gaining profit this way. Surely, as long as Haytham would pay child support, he would gladly take Connor back in – or make his sister to do so.

Ziio's house was right next to her brothers. It looked dark. There were no decorations in her windows or her front yard, unlike Haytham remembered it. Ziio had always been a lively woman and one who had greatly enjoyed those festivities. She was creative and made most of her holiday ornaments herself, but now her house looked deserted. Not even her old Honda stood in the driveway. She was probably not home, Haytham mused, so he parked his car at the side of the road in front of Teiowí:sonte's house. He doubted that it would make sense to try Ziio's house first. He could see light in the windows of Teiowí:sonte's house, so he got out of his car and opened the backseat's door to take out the infant carrier. Connor was still sound asleep. Maybe midnight had really been a little late yesterday.

However, even before Haytham could make his way towards the house, the door of said house swung open and out came the man Haytham had hoped never to see again. »You can turn right back around.« Teiowí:sonte bellowed as he walked down the footpath to the street and towards Haytham and his car. »And take your brat with you, we don’t want him here.«

Haytham could not help but to feel startled. So, apparently, he did not need to explain the situation to Teiowí:sonte. And yet, his choice of words made him angry. Even if Connor was not his child, he would never understand the hostility Teiowí:sonte felt towards the little boy. And even if he was Connor's father, it was still not Connor's fault that he was a half-breed, as Teiowí:sonte always called it.

»I am glad to see you too.« Haytham bit out and tried even a polite little grimace, but his mouth refused to cooperate and instead of a smile it turned into a horribly thin line. He held the carrier grabbed with both his hands securely, hoping that Connor would just sleep through the ordeal. »But I'm afraid I do not know what you mean. I take it that you got my messages then, yes? Was it your idea to frame me for a child that is not mine?«

Teiowí:sonte stopped right in front of him with crossed arms, his angular face dark with distrust and detest. His skin was darker than Ziio's, the sides of his head shaven and the rest of his hair so long that he needed to braid it so it would not be in the way all the time. He looked strange in the pin-striped suit he was wearing, but Haytham only knew him like this: his shoes polished, his suits expensive, the wristwatch he was wearing on his left wrist as golden as his cuff links. »Kaniehtí:io wanted you to meet your son. She demanded that I would bring the boy to you and I did. You cannot continue to abdicating from your responsibility for this brat now. And I believe the birth certificate is proof enough. Even though I told her not to, Kaniehtí:io was adamant to put your name on it too, as he was born.«

Would the situation be differently, if the boy's father would be another indigenous man? Would Teiowí:sonte not look at Connor with disgust then? No matter what he said, Haytham still refused to acknowledge his fatherhood because there was no way that he was this kid's father and he was sure that Ziio would have told him if he was. »Where is Ziio? I want to speak to her.« But no matter how much he had prepared for this situation and tried to figure out every possible explanation for this dilemma, Teiowí:sonte's  next words still hit him harder than he had expected.

»Kaniehtí:io is dead.« He bit out and looked as if he would like to punch him. He could feel the twitching as Connor started to wake up and wiggle around a little.

»What?« It was more the ghost of a word for Haytham felt as if he suddenly could not breathe. He did not believe that Teiowí:sonte would lie to him in that regard, but his heart still did not want to believe him. »How?« He added though he did not really care.

»It was an accident. She lost control of her car and was then hit by another one on the road to Boston. She was on her way to see you and tell you about Ratonhnhaké:ton, after our mother urged her to. She died in the hospital a day later but demanded that I would bring you your child before her organs started to fail. It's your job to take care of him now. Hopefully, you can at least do that right. But, as I took it from your messages, you already called the social services. And really, I do not care if you give away your own son, it would befit you and now I would like you to leave my property. You are not welcome here.«

With one last look at his face, Teiowí:sonte turned around and went back to his house and Haytham was left alone out in the cold December air.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day 6**

Haytham did not feel as though he had the strength to get up when the 24th of December hit. He heard Connor from the guest bedroom. It was no screaming for hunger or because his diapers were soiled – or at least he did not think that this was what was wrong with the little guy. He was crying, yes, but not screaming as he usually was when he really needed something. This was more the sound of a little boy who wanted a bit of attention. The thing was, however, that Haytham did not know if he would find the strength to go and see the boy … this child … his _son_.

 _His son_.

It still had not sunken in fully. The rational part of his brain knew that this was the truth and had probably known so from the start. He had known that Ziio would never cast her own child out like this, not knowing if he would be at home at all and possibly endangering the kid in this way. However, for the last days since all of this had started, it was hard not to listen to the irrational part of his brain a little more than he usually would. And the irrational part of his brain was still adamant that Connor could not be his child. It felt impossible to him.

The child protective services would come today to take the child away. It felt a little weird just to think about this. But no matter if this was his child or not, it was the right decision to make. He could not take care of a child. He knew this better than anyone else. He had hardly managed to take care of the little man for the last five days and only managed to not kill him by accident because of Shay's almost constant presence at his house. Unlike him, Shay was a natural with kids and he probably wanted his own kids as soon as possible. So why should he, Haytham, be forced to raise a child he did not want, while there were people like Shay who wanted children and could take care of them way better than he?

As he finally stood up and ventured to the guest bedroom to see what the little gremlin wanted, he wondered what he could give a child. He was working ten to twelve hours a day. He often went on business trips around the world for weeks and when he was home, it was just to sleep or change. He was not a very warm hearted person either, that was what Ziio had finally brought to quit their relationship. He was not very empathetic either. And his patience … well, it was legendarily running thin all the time.

»You would be better off with anyone but me, am I right?« He found himself sighing as he wandered to the kid's little bed and looked down on him. Connor stood upright in his bed, holding onto his prison bars and stared at him wide-eyed and confused. He really had much of his mother, Haytham mused, and almost nothing of him. It was better this way of course. Maybe, he thought, Connor's other relatives would finally accept that he would not take care of him and decide to adopt him back into their family so that he could be raised by his folks. This was at least what he hoped. Somehow, the very real possibility of Connor falling into the hands of strangers was not to his liking.

Of course, maybe this was a little hypocritical, but he would rather see how Connor would be raised by his mother's family than by total strangers of whom Haytham did not know if they would treat him right. There were more than enough stories to read of foster parents who did horrible things to their foster kids after all…

»If you are so worried that Connor could fall into the wrong hands, then why don’t you just keep him here?« Shay sighed later this day as he desperately tried to untangle the fairy lights for the Christmas tree. Apparently, his friend was rather adamant to decorate the tree. Connor sat on the carpet once again, after he would not have stopped crying while sitting in his crib. Shay had brought him something to play with, so for now, Connor was occupied and Haytham always felt the urge to look and watch to make sure that the kid was alright and did not shove the wooden pieces of the toy in his greedy little mouth. He thought that this was mainly so that the child protective services would not have a reason to attack him in any way when they would later pick him up.

»Because it's better this way, Shay.« He did not even make a move to help his friend in his fight against the Christmas decoration, instead, he slumped down onto the sofa and watched Connor play for a little moment longer. It was weird for him to stay at home for six days in a row. His laptop stood on his coffee table still open and ready for him to get a bit of work done, but somehow he could not bring himself to concentrate on those tedious reports his sister had sent him out of China. He really did not care at the moment.

»And how is this better?« Shay replied as he shortly turned around to look at him before he aimed his focus back at the fairy lights. By now, Haytham would have just given up and thrown them away to buy new ones. »You are his father, there is no better option than for a child to grow up with his biological parents, as long as they are fit tor raise a child and won't harm their kid.«

As if he wanted to underline Shay's point of view, Haytham suddenly felt a little tug at his pants and as he looked down, he saw Connor, sitting right in front of his feet, tugging at his dress pants to get his attention. He had not even noticed how the baby had moved from his spot on the carpet. He was quick and silent as a mouse when he wanted to. Probably his son would become a ninja.

Haytham did not do much at first, but then he finally bent down to pick him up and let Connor sit on his lap. It seemed to be what he wanted and Haytham was not willing to deal with any more crying and screaming for now. He would start to turn gray in no time if the boy would stay with him. »That’s exactly my point. I am not fit to be a parent.« There was only one last look Shay threw at him, but then he finally dropped the topic and Haytham was thankful that he did.

As noon rolled by he grew more and more anxious. Shay had finished his decorations an hour ago and went back home and Haytham had stayed alone with Connor in the house, not knowing what he needed to do next. How could Shay even think that he would be fit to raise this precious boy? He was not even able to feed him properly. Shay had scolded him more than enough times by now to know this. It was either that the milk was too hot, too cold or he that would hold the bottle too vertical. Same thing with changing his diapers. It was either that he forgot the baby powder, the lotion or that he would wrap the diaper too tightly. He still had no clue what Connor wanted from him, most of the time, when he would cry. Even while holding him he made mistakes, apparently. Having a baby in one's care was not easy and Haytham, if he would be honest to himself, was terrified to really cause harm to this little thing. He was nine months old by now, yes, but he was still a fragile little baby. A ninja baby perhaps, but still a baby.

For almost half an hour he was constantly strolling around his house, pacing back and forth like some caged animal with Connor on his arms. The boy did not seem to mind, quite the opposite, actually. As Haytham looked at him shortly, Connor had his eyes closed and his little head with his black tuft of hair resting comfortable against his left shoulder, while his little fingers were holding onto Haytham's dress shirt relentlessly. He seemed quite relaxed and contempt in being carried around like this the whole entire time. He was not actually a difficult child, when he thought about it. He either cried because his diapers were soiled or because he was hungry or because he wanted some company. That was it. And he almost always shut up as soon as Haytham would pick him up no matter the reason for his crying. He had always thought children would cry a lot more and would be a lot more exhausting to handle. Then again, he had missed the first nine months of his son's life.

A part of him wondered why Ziio had not told him right away. Maybe she had feared that he would try to get back together just because of Connor. Maybe she had not wanted him in her or Connor's life. Maybe she had not wanted him to think that she wanted his money. Maybe she had not wanted to confront him with a child after he had told her that he was not all too interested in having children. However, at last, she had wanted to tell him.

When the doorbell finally rang and announced the arrival of the child protective services at his house, he almost jumped out of his own skin. Even Connor opened his eyes again and looked at him puzzled and a little sleepy. Suddenly it was the irrational part of his brain which wanted to play dead and to not open the door, but he instead walked up to the front door and opened it anyway. He did not know what he had expected. Maybe he had expected the social worker to rip Connor right off of him and walk away. A hard cut. Fast and without anesthesia. Instead, the young lady introduced herself patiently as Sofia Sartor and asked to be allowed inside. She looked nice, most definitely and the way she talked to Haytham was warm and considerate, with a strong Italian accent.

Haytham kept Connor for a little while longer as they sat down in his living room for a few minutes, while Miss Sartor needed to file the necessary paperwork for this case. Of course, he even handed her Connor's birth certificate. She seemed confused at first that a father wanted to give up his child for adoption like this, but as Haytham explained the situation and his own inability to take care of the boy properly, she complied, handing him the documents he needed to sign.

In his life, Haytham had signed many important documents, mainly contracts which could decide the future and prosperity of his family and the companies and thousands of workers and yet no signing had felt harder and more difficult to make than this one. He hesitated, as he grabbed the pen. Hearing the words from a figure like this woman instead of his friend Shay or himself, was different. He was giving up his son for adoption, officially. He did not just give away _a_ child to child protective services, he was giving away _his_ child.

And yet, despite his hesitation, he signed the documents. Miss Sartor did not seem glad about his final decision as she proceeded to shove the documents back into her bag and as she rose and extended her arms, only then it really hit Haytham that she would take Connor away. He gave over the little boy without hesitation this time, reminding himself that it would be better this way.

As he walked her to the door, Connor looked over her right shoulder with his large brown eyes, but Haytham refused to cave in. This was not malicious intent. He did what was best for the boy and surely Connor would understand him one day. Maybe they would see each other again as soon as Connor would be old enough to hear the truth about his real parents and then he would tell him why he had decided as he just did.

As he opened the door for Miss Sartor, they shook hands one last time and when she left the house he stayed at the door wand watched her walking down the footpath. He could not bring himself to go back inside. However, as she reached her car he forced himself to turn around and close the door. There was screaming that ripped apart the serenity of the street, just as Haytham wanted to close the door and that exact sound made him froze in place. He knew it was Connor who screamed like the little maniac he was, but he had never heard him like this before.

Later he would not be able to say what had really happened, but something in him just snapped at the sound. Before he could even think about his actions, he ran outside into the freezing December air. There was no refusal, no resistance from Miss Sartor, as Haytham ripped Connor from her arms this time, only a little smile, tugging on her red lips.  »I'm sorry, little gremlin.« The words were just a ghost and Haytham did not even know if Connor could understand what was happening around him, but he did know that he would not hand the little boy over again. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Day 7**

The morning of the 25th of December, _Christmas Morning_ , came without carols or bells or Santa sliding down the chimney in Haytham Kenway's living room, although he did believe that, if his father would know about Connor by now, he clearly would dress up as Santa Clause and do exactly that. Remembering his own childhood, he did recall Santa Clause visiting them every year on Christmas. Of course, his father had always been running _some errand_ or had needed to help _some neighbor_ with _something_ whenever Santa had been there to bring them their presents. As a child, Haytham had confronted his father every year with the situation and scolded him for not being there when Santa came. In retrospect, Santa Clause had had a lot more scars on his face and had looked a lot younger than he would have expected.

Well, Connor was too little anyway to understand these things, he mused. As soon as he would be a little older, surely, his father would not be stopped to go back to his reprised role again.

As he lay in his bed on this very morning and stared out of the window to watch the snowflakes slowly drizzling down from the sky, he wondered how he should tell his parents. It was not like he would be keeping secrets from them, he just did not care to tell them much about his private life. And so he had never told them about Ziio. He would have had if their relationship would not have ended so abruptly and so quickly.

Had Ziio known that she was pregnant when she dumped him? He could only speculate, but looking back on the events, he guessed that she had known. She had brought up the topic quite a lot back then and they had argued relentlessly. Haytham had been so tired of the topic at one point and Ziio, well, she had left him. Surely she had hoped that he would be a little more enthusiastic about children in general, and maybe if he had been, she would have then told him about Connor.

Well, he could not ask her now, could he? He had missed Connor's first nine months and he had missed the pregnancy. There was so much he would never get to experience now and maybe a part of him even was angry because of it. He was angry at Ziio. He was angry that she had hidden his son from him just because she had been hurt maybe. It had been his right to know about him and she had waited eighteen months to tell him. Now she was gone and he could not confront her about this anymore. It was not right. It was not okay. But well, in terms of children, it were the women who held all the power and they, the fathers, were just the idiots who needed to play by their rules and better be thankful if they were allowed to have their kids – as if they, just because they were men, would not have hearts, would not have feelings, sentiments and would not feel love for their kids.

Even though he knew that there would not be presents under the Christmas tree, he got up and left his room. He had left Connor again in his crib in the living room, because he had liked the fairy lights so much that he had always started crying whenever Haytham had wanted to carry him upstairs, no matter how late it got. He had slept with his bedroom door open, despite his usual habit of keeping it closed, just so he would be able to hear Connor. Maybe he still missed some of the parental intellect that was required to raise a child and he was sure that every mother would have already scolded him for this, but well… He was only a father for six full days by now, wasn’t he? Of course, he made mistakes.

»I should make the house baby safe.« He mused as he slowly wandered down the hallway. At least the bleach bottles and other cleaning utensils had safety caps so that little gremlins as Connor could not easily open them.

He had left the fairy lights burning the entire night because Connor liked them so much and so they were still on as he reached the living room. The day had just begun and it was still quite dark outside, but the sun was beginning to rise slowly and the snow would soon devour the entire neighborhood for sure.

The first thing he noticed as he entered the living room was, however, the empty crib and for just this second his heart stopped.

Before he did anything else, he turned around on his heels and rushed into the kitchen. »Connor?« He called, even though he was very much aware that his son would not answer him. He was not in the kitchen and the cabinet doors were closed. Still, Haytham opened all of them to see if the baby had crawled inside one of them. No Connor. He did not bother to close them as he rushed out of the kitchen. The basement door was wide open and while the horror started to manifest in his mind already, even though he was sure to find the baby boy at the foot of the stairs, he turned on the light with fear clawing at his heart. No Connor. He rushed down anyway. After all, it was not necessary the case that Connor would have fallen down the stairs, right? He might have crawled down there and was now still crawling around the basement! Which led him to the question of why the hell he had left the door open?

Haytham looked in every nook and cranny in the basement, but no Connor was there to be found, only useless clutter and items that he had not used or seen in years. So he ran upstairs again and closed the door behind him this time. He should start locking the basement door. And he should install safety locks on the cabinet doors so that Connor could not get to the poisonous bottles inside. There were a lot of things he should better start doing now with a baby in his house. What a weird thought.

There were not many places Connor could have possibly gone to on the ground floor and yet Haytham even looked in his second bathroom only to find himself again in the living room at the end of his search. And what if someone had taken him? What if Teiowí:sonte or anyone else of this family had changed their mind and came to take Connor while Haytham had been asleep? Wouldn’t he have heard it then?

What if burglars had broken in and decided to steal his child for ransom instead?

Finally, Haytham sunk on his couch and brushed his hand through his dark hair. How could anyone lose a baby like this? The boy surely did not just _vanish_ into thin air for crying out loud! This was ridiculous!

And then, as his eyes fell upon the Christmas tree again, he saw him.

Connor was lying curled up under the tree with his tiny arms wrapped tightly around his teddy, fast asleep. For just a second, Haytham Kenway did not know if he should laugh or cry. The only thing he did know was that he was incredibly relieved. Although he had tried not to, he was aware of the bond he had developed for this little creature over the last couple of days. He had looked out a lot more for Connor than he would have expected. If he would not have cared deep down inside for the boy, he would have just given him to someone until the child protective services would have come to take him and go to work like he had always done. Instead, he had stayed home, perfectly aware of the questions this would raise.

With a soft sigh, he rose from his spot on the sofa again and grabbed his phone that he had left lying on the coffee table last night before he went to bed. He could not help but take a picture of the scene in front of him before he walked to the tree and sat down cross-legged in front of it. »Well, _that’s_ a present, isn’t it?« He hummed as he picked up Connor, careful not to wake him and the little boy immediately curled up against him, completely content with the situation.

For a moment Haytham just paused and stared at his little face and could still not even fathom that he had created this tiny little perfect thing. But then his eyes moved back to the phone that he still held in one hand. He hesitated just for a second, but then he opened his contacts, chose his father and dialed the number. Why not play Santa Clause himself this time?


End file.
